CHAPTER TWELVE
Marcus dropped a boot onto the floor with a thud that seemed loud in the silence following Jade’s words. She glared at Phoenix. Surely he understood the danger they were in, now?
“Ah,” he expelled the word on a sigh, “so you’re saying there’s another one of those walking mountains out there?”
Jade nodded. It was hard to stay calm when he was being so stupidly relaxed about it. She wanted to thump him on the head to try and get the idea into his skull. Honestly!
Phoenix ran a hand through his long, dark hair and scratched his scalp.
“So will it come after us like, right now?” He cast a longing glance at an empty bed.
She bit her lip. She’d never read the original Norse poem, only a Rosemary Sutcliff book based on the fifteen-hundred year old saga. So she couldn’t say exactly when Grendel’s mother was supposed to attack Hrothgar’s hall.
“I’m not sure,” she admitted.
“Excellent.” Phoenix arched in a bone-cracking stretch. “How about you stay up for this first watch, just in case? Marcus and I will get some more sleep. That way,” he waved a hand, “we’ll be ready to give mother troll the run-around as well.”
“Well,” she hesitated. Glancing at Marcus’ face, she saw he and Phoenix both had heavy, dark circles beneath their eyes. They needed sleep. She felt another twinge of guilt for letting them bear the burden of defeating Grendel. She owed them. “OK,” she sighed. “You sleep, I’ll keep watch but…”
Phoenix slapped her on the back, making her cough. “Don’t stress. I’m sure we’ll have at least one night’s grace.”
“Famous last words,” Jade muttered. She moved to station herself beside the front door, opening it a fraction so she could see the moonlit village outside.
In the long hours that followed, she wondered how much more she could take. The strain of actually living this adventure was wearing her down. She really needed to get a grip. This game was challenging everything she once thought she actually might be good at. She’d always daydreamed about how perfect she’d be if she were thrown into this sort of fantasy land; always imagined being a brave warrior princess. Now, her deeper fears about not being able to cope in this game were being played out. She was making mistakes – lots of them. It was terrifying.
Not surprisingly, this thought did nothing to improve her confidence.
Jade spent the night with her hands clenched on her quarterstaff, eyes on the door; head awhirl with confused, worried thoughts and doubts.
In spite of her fear, the night passed peacefully. Everyone, except her, slept soundly until sunrise. Jade let them all rest the night through. As a half-elf, she could go longer without sleep than humans. She was a little tired but she knew she could cope until the next night.
At dawn, she roused them all and started the packing. The morning had brought a little composure to her thinking. At least she was able to plan for their next trip. That was something, anyway. The other doubts she pushed aside, not yet ready to deal with them. She had to focus on getting Truda home in time to stop Ragnarok. That was the most important thing now.
Carefully, she stowed a small amount of gear into each backpack then shoved the bulk of their new clothes into the Hyllion bagia. For extra security, she asked Brynn to also remember the name of each item she stuffed into the magic bag. To get things back out of the bag, you had to give it the correct name: like “bear fur coat” or “leather pants”. There was no point in having a bag full of things nobody could get out.
Who knew what was already in there. In his more treasure-hungry moments, Brynn tried random words. Generalities like ‘gold’ or ‘silver’ didn’t seem to work. His more specific, frustrated attempts had so far produced only a chair, a bolt of coarse cloth and five pairs of baby shoes. He often repeated his suggestion that they cut it open and see what came out.
A servant brought breakfast of thick porridge laced with honey, which they ate quickly. A polite knock fell on the door. Ásúlfr’s aged voice called to them.
“My friends, King Hrothgar and his lady await you without. They bring gifts and wish to give you a good fare well.”
The five companions stepped out into brilliant spring sunshine, blinking. Arrayed before them were five sturdy horses: three for riding and two loaded with stuffed provisions bags. King Hrothgar himself came forward carrying two swords. The first, a long sword, he handed to Marcus with a warning to use it well. Marcus murmured his thanks and swung it, frowning at the difference between it and the shorter gladius he was used to.
“It is made of the best steel by the best craftsmen in the world. You will not find a better sword, except perhaps this one.” Hrothgar handed the second over to Phoenix with a look of pride and regret. “It was given to me by Thor himself. I don’t really want to part with it but I am getting too old to do it justice. Now I have found a hero worthy of it.” The older man pushed the sword away as Phoenix automatically tried to return it. “No. You keep it but use it wisely. Its name is Blódbál. It means, ‘blood-fire’.”
Hrothgar drew a breath and released it on a sigh. “There is power in this weapon for one who can use it with a clear head. However, if you use it in blind hatred or anger, that power will consume you and you will become a berserker.” The old king raised a warning finger. “You will not know friend from foe and you will not stop until all are dead around you. So be careful, my young hero. Of course, it doesn’t work on trolls or I would have used it years ago.”
Phoenix stared at the weapon, clearly more than a little excited by the idea of wielding a magic sword. He drew it from its worn, leather scabbard. It was exquisite. There was nothing flashy or fancy: no jewels or goldwork in the hilt, just a plain, leather-wrapped grip and metal crosspiece below a long, broad blade. The blade did not have the high polish that Marcus’ new one did but it looked sharp and well-kept. He swung it experimentally.
“Wow,” he murmured, catching Jade’s sceptical look. “It’s like I don’t even have to think; it just knows what I want to do next.” Bemusement flickered over his face and he looked away into the distance, as though he heard something no-one else could. Then his eyes refocused and he blinked at Hrothgar. “It’s singing to me. Is it supposed to do that?”
Hrothgar roared a laugh and slapped Phoenix on the shoulder, making him stagger. “That means it likes you, boy. It’s getting the damned thing to stop singing that’s the challenge.”
Phoenix turned to show the others. Brynn touched the flat of the blade hesitantly, as though expecting it to shock him. Jade inspected it in a different way, looking for any signs of magic. There it was. When she looked at it right, the whole sword positively glowed and pulsed with the telltale purple-blue aura that indicated a powerful magical tool.
“Magic?” Phoenix said.
She nodded, a little worried. “Quite strong, too. Be careful with that thing.”
Phoenix resheathed Blódbál and strapped it onto his left hip. After a moment’s hesitation, he presented his own, shorter, sword to Brynn. The boy took it reverently and tied it to his hip. He walked with a definite swagger. Jade made a mental note to ask Phoenix to teach him how to use it before he accidentally cut his own leg off.
Hrothgar presented still more gifts. Jade watched, feeling guilty and worried. She hoped he wouldn’t give her anything - she hadn’t done anything to earn gifts. Besides, if Grendel’s mother came, they would have accepted them under false pretences. To Marcus, he gave a quiver full of new, iron-tipped arrows. Phoenix received a small, round shield to replace his own, lost in Stonehenge. To Brynn, the king gave a whistle made of bronze. It’s pure, clear notes sounded out across the village as the boy piped his joy. Truda received a gown of blue to match Jade’s green one, a bracelet of bronze and a small, iron dagger. The girl was delighted and hugged the old king. His lined face softened into a smile and he patted the child’s head.
; When it came to Jade, he beckoned Ásúlfr forward. The old magician came stiffly up, holding a slender, leather-bound book in his hands. He stroked the cover reverently once then handed it to Jade. She accepted but protested that she didn’t need anything but the gift of languages he had already given them.
“Lady,” Ásúlfr said with a smile, “you have made my long life complete just by your arrival in our village. You and your companions will be remembered in saga-songs for generations to come. This,” he tapped the book with his finger, “is a copy of my research: spells and enchantments that might help you in your travels.”
Jade gasped, awed. “This is too much. I can’t take this.”
He laughed softly. “It’s only a copy. I still have the original. Besides,” he patted her hand, “everyone’s magic is personal. My spells may not even work for you.”
She gazed at the old man and suddenly missed her father terribly. He was the only other person who ever treated her as special and important. Ásúlfr had given her an incredibly valuable gift – trust. Trust that she would not misuse his spells for dark purposes; trust that she would keep his knowledge to herself; trust that she was a good person.
In the depths of her heart, Jade vowed not to let him down.
Following Truda’s example, she hugged the old magician. As she did so, her healer self sensed the aches and pains of arthritis in his joints. He was not really so old after all but the pain of the disease had aged him. Well, she could do something about that.
Rummaging about in her backpack, Jade brought out her herb bag and extracted a couple of dried juniper leaves from it. She poured a few drops of water from her waterskin into the palm of her hand and crushed the leaves into a paste. Next, she drew Ásúlfr aside from the throng of people seeing the companions off.
“Will you let me help you once more?”
The old man frowned at her. “How?”
“You said you couldn’t do magic on yourself?”
He shook his head.
“Let me ease your pain.” Jade smiled at the flicker of hope in his eyes.
He nodded hesitantly. She dabbed a little of the herb paste onto his forehead and hands then took his twisted fingers in her own and closed her eyes. A few, soft, Elven words spoken under her breath; a surge of power that tasted like copper and juniper in her mouth; the flicker of purple-blue energy behind her eyelids - and it was done. Smiling in satisfaction, Jade let go of the Lifebringer’s hands and stepped back.
Ásúlfr stared at her. He straightened up slowly. A look of pure joy and amazement flowered on his wrinkled face. With an exultant laugh, he executed a funny little dance step on the spot. He gazed at her wonderingly then bowed.
“I have no way to thank you. You have changed my life.”
Jade blushed and shook her head. “I’m glad I could help but…” She drew him further aside. Glancing around to make sure nobody overheard, she decided to warn the old magician. “Please be careful.”
“What of?” Ásúlfr flexed his fingers, admiring the way they moved.
“I’m sure Grendel wasnt alone,” she whispered.
The old man’s eyes jumped to hers, his white brows snapping together in a frown. “What makes you say that? In all the years Grendel terrorised our people, he did so alone.”
Jade bit her lip. How could she say she’d read it in a story? It would sound ridiculous. Finally, she decided she’d have to tell a small lie and hope he couldn’t read her very well. She’d always been able to fool her family.
She reached up and tapped her temple with one finger. “My Elven senses warned me about Grendel and now I feel the presence of another. It is angry. I’m worried it may take revenge on Olshamarr for Grendel’s death. Please,” she laid a hand on Ásúlfr’s sleeve, “warn Hrothgar to be wary.”
Ásúlfr stared at her in horror for a moment then shook himself and nodded.
“Thank you for your warning. I shall pass it on to the king.” He opened his mouth then shut it with a regretful look. “I cannot ask you and your friends to stay when you have already done so much. You have your own quest to pursue. Now that we know a troll can be killed, we will be able to do it ourselves, if we must. Go with our thanks, Jade. Be safe.” He held her shoulders and placed a light, whiskery kiss on her cheek. Jade hugged him again and moved back to the others with a heavier burden of guilt.
It was her fault Phoenix and Marcus had taken on the troll alone; her fault that Grendel’s death now put Ásúlfr and his people in danger. She just couldn’t afford to make any more mistakes.